Triple Skip Beats
by YellowBella
Summary: Baked Alaska and a new TV on top of an old one. He's been pushing her around since she was a kid, and she's kind of, sort of always had her eye on him. Because sometimes Little Sisters shouldn't be off limits. A little peek into them. A Dusty Outtake.


**We do not own ****Twilight****. We are YellowBella, though. **

**This was originally donated in support of Suicide Awareness and To Write Love on her Arms****, but now we're sharing with everyone. **

**This is a Dusty outtake which takes place after pink hair and during birthday tickets from Garrett. **

**LovelyBrutal: Thank you!**

**Drake and Nikki Minaj –** **Make me Proud:** _Might have been a time when I loved her too. But you take that away, you'll always be the one._

**Petey**

"You coming over?"

"Should I?"

The right side of my mouth lifts. "Yeah."

"What if he finds out?"

The right side of my mouth falls. "He won't."

"But what if he does? You don't care? He'll be mad. He already said—"

I drop the mop and walk out of the kitchen. My shoes slip. I laugh. It doesn't fucking matter how many times I mop the motherfucker, the linoleum never looks clean. It is what it is.

She doesn't care.

"I told you I would tell him," I cut her off. "Or we don't have to. You don't want to because of—"

This time she stops me short. "I'm on my way," she says, stopping me before I say _his_ name.

That quiet, punk motherfucker.

I hang up the phone and try to clean up the living room. Beer bottles with floating cigarette butts and old fast food wrappers are everywhere. My mom's clothes are thrown all over the place. The coffee table has an inch thick layer of dust on it. I toss shit out. I wipe things down. I try to vacuum, but the belt is bad, so now the air smells like burnt rubber.

_Fuck. _

I open all of the windows and turn on the floor fan. It's missing a blade and the switch to make it rotate is broken, but it helps.

I light a candle, but decide it's gay as fuck and blow it out. It's too late, though. My shitty fucking house smells like baked Alaska scented wax, burnt rubber, and beer.

I'm nervous. I rub sweaty palms down the front of dark denim. I go into the bathroom to make sure it's decent. The toilet paper is on the roll, the curtain is closed, and the mirror is clean.

I check my face. My cheeks are red, like I'm some kind of pussy.

_It's only her, _I remind myself.

My phone rings. I turn off the bathroom light and run back into the living room; I don't have to run far or fast, but it might be my girl … my real girl.

The one who matters.

It's not.

It's Edward.

_Fuck. _

My heart triple-skip-beats. _He knows. He knows. He knows. _

_No, he doesn't. _

He's too involved in his own bullshit—his secret that shouldn't even be a secret. Her. Them. Dangerous. So fucked up. Perfect.

But who the fuck am I to talk? I never say anything. It's their deal.

"Hey, where are you?" I answer my phone. I sit on the couch. Fucking dust floats into the air.

"Walking around," he answers.

I sit back. He wasn't there after school. The Lincoln was gone. My boy was gone. His phone was off. Bella looked like she was fighting a fucking heart attack.

"Where?" I ask.

"I don't know. Listen,"—he lights a cigarette—"if anyone asks, you haven't heard from me. I just wanted to call."

It's his way of saying he cares enough to let his best friend know what's up.

As far as best friends, Dusty is my boy. We're close, always have been, but sometimes I don't even pretend to understand him. His outlook on life is so fucking dim, and he doesn't even have it bad. A lot of his troubles are brought upon himself. He's a spoiled rich kid with made up Mommy and Daddy problems, but whatever. I love him. He does more for me than I could ever do for him.

So, I do this. I keep his secret, even from him. I make sure he doesn't kill himself, and I try to keep him in line.

I tell whoever that I haven't spoken to him.

Even her.

Particularly her.

"Yeah. Keep me posted," I say with a sigh.

He hangs up.

I keep my head back against the couch and look up at the ceiling. I should do something. Stop him. Give him a motherfucking hug. Be there for him. Because it's more than just a good time to him. He's numbing something. He's too deep. Soon, he'll be unreachable.

But I can't.

Not really.

He isn't like that. He doesn't like to be touched or talked to. Edward is the kind of guy who is content with just having you by his side. He trusts very little. He's wary … and it's more than the drugs. He's always been this way. His eyes are always over suspicious. He says what he means and nothing more. Edward's angry, but he doesn't yell. He doesn't need to.

Especially lately.

He suffers with some inner demon, and I think her name starts with an_ Isabella _and ends with a_ Bliss. _

We're good, though. He trusts me. Maybe more so than Ben. Edward and I have been best friends since we were little rascals with grubby faces, causing a ruckus—kindergarten. We started off coloring on the walls, and from there it got more mischievous. My boy and I used to ride our bikes all over Forks, stomping out the neighbors' rose bushes and knocking over mail boxes.

When Ben came along in the third grade, our duo became a trio and nobody was safe. Carlisle used to call us hoodlums.

Who the fuck am I kidding,he still does.

In the fifth grade, the year before Bliss showed up at school, we dipped into tagging because Edward saw it on some TV show. We each had a name: Benzo, RePete, and Dusty.

Edward was always just Dusty.

We tagged that shit all over school and got in so much fucking trouble.

My ma was already drinking by then, so Carlisle and Esme took care of me, but that's how we roll. If Edward wants to do something, Ben and I follow. No matter what. No matter how much trouble we might get into. And the Cullens always get us out.

Always.

The sound of tires rolling up my driveway pulls me from my thoughts. I stand up, pushing away worry about Edward, and after shoving a forgotten paper towel I was dusting with between the couch cushions, I do a turn in the center of the living room to make sure the place looks good enough. My mom is working tonight; she'll be home late if she comes home at all. Which means I don't have to worry about her coming home anytime soon to destroy what I just spent an hour cleaning.

I open the front door as forbidden love is jumping out of her Jeep.

"Hey," she says over her shoulder. She's on her tippy-toes, trying to get her board out from the back.

I lean against the doorjamb and stick my hands in my pockets. "Need some help?" I ask, even though she doesn't.

"Fuck off, Pete!" Her board hits the ground.

She rolls to me.

I stop her skateboard with my shoe.

Her red lips curve. She's shy and all blush-like, looking at me from under pink side bangs.

"Are we going to ride or what?" She kicks my foot off her ride, acting more like herself.

I tilt her chin up and kiss her ruby lips.

I kiss Alice.

And she actually kisses me back.

Sometimes she doesn't. Sometimes she worries too much.

She worries about her brother, Kim … Jasper.

Mostly Jasper.

Never really Kim.

She's afraid of what her brother will do if he finds out.

When he finds out.

_Fuck. _

I have red lipstick all over my face because she's kissing me everywhere. Alice thinks it's funny, but then there's too much red, so she tries to wipe it off with her thumbs and a little bit of spit.

I like her hands on me, so I let her.

Not that I minded her kiss marks.

Not that I mind her spit.

"Wanna come inside?" I ask, moving over so she can walk in ahead of me.

She's wiping kisses that were just on me, but are now on her, onto her jeans. "Sure."

Alice walks in first. Her light pink hair is left down and straight, parted down the middle. The uneven ends brush at her lower back. Her blonde roots are showing. She doesn't care. She never has.

Dressed in a pair of forest green skinny jeans and a gray fitted tee shirt, she flops down on the couch.

Alice ignores the floating dust.

"Looks good in here, Pete. You didn't have to clean up." She puts her feet on the coffee table. "I like it, you know. It's comfortable. It smells like you."

My smile falls. "I smell like burning rubber?"

"Is that what it is?" she jokes.

I sit next to her. I keep my hands in my lap. I want to touch her, though.

Alice's lips are a rubbed-off red. Puffy. She has puffed lips. Like, they're big. Kim's are small, and nippy … normal lips. Girl lips. Alice's are something else entirely. Made for me.

If I can ever talk her into it.

She crosses and uncrosses her ankles. Alice's yellow Vans are untied. The laces are dirty. The end of the left one on her right shoe is frayed. _Sunny _is written on the toe of one shoe, and _Side_ on the other.

"So," she says.

"So," I say.

Alice reaches over and takes my hand. She sets it between us but let's go, resting her fingers beside mine.

_Always so close, but never close enough. _

Her nails are painted black, but they're chipped and chewed down. Her cuticles are peeling and red, and her wrist is tied with every friendship bracelet her and Bliss share. There's one in there from me, though, too, a hoodie string, cut and tied,lost in the bunch.

She has scars on her arm, old and new. I know how a few of them got there, some I don't. Her elbow is scraped and scabbed. That one I own.

She snuck out of her house a couple of nights ago. We were walking in the woods behind my house. I pushed her against a tree. She hit her elbow. I kissed her anyway.

"We can stay here," she whispers.

I cough. My fingers twitch on the hand closest to hers. The one she took but didn't hold.

"I thought we were going to skate?" I'm an idiot.

But her face lights up. She likes my answer. My difficult-so-deep girl. She's like a fucking riddle—her answer is so obvious, but I never figure it out.

I'm sure the day I finally solve her conundrum, I'll be like, _ooooooohhhhhh, yeah. Duh. _

_Don't do drugs. _

Pretty in pink tosses me her keys. "You drive." She picks up her board and heads outside.

I sit on the couch for a second. "Wait. Where are we going?"

She's already climbing back into the Jeep.

.

.

.

We go to the beach. To some dock. Her wheels are bump, bump, rolling over old, sea soaked wood. I'm sitting in the sand watching, memorizing. I like her near the water. I like her in the sun. It's cold and her nipples are showing through her tee because she isn't wearing a bra.

She probably did it on purpose.

"Remember that time I sucked your dick?" she calls out and laughs.

I smile wide, because, _yeah,_ _I remember. _

"Remember you liked it?" She skates to the end of the dock and spins around on her two back wheels.

"Yeah. Shut up," I say almost shyly.

Alice fucks with me. Sometimes I think this shit is a game for her.

We've been carefully stepping around the idea of "us" for a while. Back in the day, when Bella and Al were painting each other's nails and playing outside until they smelled like sweat—their feet used to be so fucking dirty, and Alice never brushed her hair, and I loved her chipped tooth—but back then, even then, we teased with stupid smiles and little touches.

Nothing like Edward and Bella … we were _us_.

Relative, but everything.

I loved Kim. I love Kim. But Alice … she's mine.

She's it.

She's me.

But now that we're getting older, it's getting more tricky. I feel things where I didn't necessarily used to: my dick, my head, and my heart.

My fucking gut.

Alice is so back and forth, though. Some days she's like, "_Pete, let's just do it,"_ and others, she's like, _"Too many people will get hurt, Peter … blah, blah, blah, meh."_

Fuck Jasper.

That skinny, voiceless motherfucker.

"Dare me to jump in?" Alice calls from the dock.

I stand up and walk her way. "Don't do it."

I know she'll do it. Her blue eyes are already swimming.

She rolls to the edge. "Dare me," she says. This girl's so-kissed lips are curved into a smirk that matches Edward's exactly.

_Fucking Cullens. _

"No." And I'm serious. It's fucking cold and the water is too choppy. "I don't want to jump in after you."

She pouts, looking over the edge. I step a little closer to my troublesome troublemaker.

She'll do it just to see if I'll go in after her. She's an attention slut. Insecure, too. Alice is good at covering that up, though. Al camouflages her issues with pink hair and skateboards, and she acts like she doesn't give a fuck about anyone, but she does.It's why she won't leave Jasper. It's why she won't tell her brother about us.

"You won't save me?" She holds her hair over her shoulder.

"I'll save you," I say.

Our eyes lock.

And she jumps.

I jump in right after her.

It's like needles. Millions and trillions of them, piercing and jabbing and torturing. I sink, sink, sink. I extend my arms, reachingfor her.

I accidentally kick her in the ribs.

I grab Alice and hold her to my chest. Our feet kick together.

We reach the surface and her lips are blue. Her makeup is black, smearing down her eyes. Cotton-candy hair sticks to her head, but she is smiling wide.

"You're such a bitch," I say, spitting out the water as it hits me in the face.

My jeans are heavy. My hoodie is heavier. She weighs nothing in my freezing, shivering arms.

"But you love me," she says excitedly, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I hold onto the dock, and onto her. I let her kiss my cold face, because she's right … I might love her.

"Take me back to your place?" she whispers into my ear.

By the time we run back to the Jeep, we're sand covered and our jaws are chattering. The top is on, thankfully, so we crank the heater and laugh and giggle, and do stupid as fuck couple shit all the way back to my house.

"I'd offer you my hoodie," I say, joking. "But, you know."

We don't even make it through the front door when we get back to my house. I put the Jeep into park and pull the emergency brake and she is on me, in my lap, circling her wet hips.

"Hurry," she groans against my lips.

And maybe if we weren't soaked and shivering, I'd fuck her right here. Right here in the front seat of her Jeep in my driveway. If it were summer, I'd do it. She'd like it. Alice Cullen enjoys that shit. She'd like the sun on her tits … on her bare back, in her eyes.

While I'm inside of her...

_Fuck. _

I press my lips onto the top of her wet tee shirt covered shoulder and squeeze my eyes shut.

It's overcast, but it's daytime. A little past two. Anyone can look and see us.

"Come on." I lift her off of me.

We rush to the door, holding hands. Me in front. Her in back. We leave a trail of drip marks behind us. And when we get into the house, Alice takes her shoes off.

"I don't want to ruin the carpet," she says.

"This entire fucking house is ruined, Al."

"I like it. It's my favorite house." Then she takes off her shirt. "So shut up."

Her nipples are hard. And pink. And hard.

She unzips her jeans and shimmies out of them. It's difficult because they're water drenched. They get stuck on her ankle. She kicks them off and they land on the coffee table.

We leave them there.

She's drizzly tiptoes in violet cotton.

My bedroom is different from the rest of the house. I take care of it, and the only people allowed back here are Ben, Edward, Kim … and Alice. A lot of my stuff is hand-me-down shit from my boys. Ben gave me his queen bed when his parents got him a king. Edward gave me his TV when Esme bought him a flat screen. I bought my dressers at a yard sale a couple of years back. They're cool. Whatever.

In her purple underwear, Alice's hair drips pink water drops all over my room. She looks around, even though she's been in here a few times.

She knocks over the picture of Kim I have beside my bed.

She knocks over the picture me,Ben and Dusty from fifth grade, too.

"If we have sex, are you going to get all attached?" She tries to make herself distant, but I think she's asking herself, not me.

This is her insecure.

I take off my hoodie. My shirt comes off with it. Frigid air stings cold, damp skin. I get goose bumps.

"Probably," I answer. I shut the bedroom door and lock it. No one is coming over, though.

I just want us bolted away from the world for a while.

My room is dark. My window is covered by a black sheet. Faint light shines through. I turned the heater on for her; musky air flows through the vents.

I am so fucking in love with her.

_Fuck. _

I strip down to my boxers before opening my dresser drawer. I reach in for my bag, keeping my eyes on this girl. I smell pot, but I smell her too: chocolate chip cookies and sunlight. Alice is on my bed, stretching herself out, with her arms above her head. She extends her toes and curls them up, sighing.

I roll up quickly and light my joint, sitting in the old metal chair I have in my room. My girl looks over at me. She leans her head on the palm of her hand and watches. I smoke fast. I'd offer her some, but I don't want to. I like her watching me through smoke.

"That's so sexy when you do that," she says.

"Yeah?" I choke and cough; so not sexy.

"Yeah. I like your lips."

I smile. "I like your tits."

Alice looks down at her unclothed chest and laughs.

I take one last hit. A big one. A huge one. One I feel the effects of right away. I slowly exhale as I get up and walk to her.

Alice's feet are hanging off the edge of the mattress. I take her ankles and open her legs. She hooks her thumbs into her lace and lifts her hips.

Then I see her.

She throws her underwear in my face. I lean over her … between her. Our lips touch. I'm hard under gray cotton.

Alice dips her hand inside of my boxers when our tongues touch.

_Love. _

_Love._

_Love. _

She wraps her hand around my cock and pumps, slowly … then too fast. I cry out.

"You just gave my dick an Indian burn." I might want to bite her for it.

We're laughing. Alice kisses the top of my shoulder.

We're not laughing anymore.

"We've never done this before," she says, rubbing her thumb over the head of my length.

"I'll be good to you," I promise.

Our faces are close. Her breath is warm over my lips. Her eyes are big, scared.

I am, too.

She pushes down my boxers.

I shift above her. I scoot her up the bed. I make sure she's good. Her legs tremble at my sides. My heart might be rocking the entire room.

Her hands are unsteady on my hips. My dick presses into the side of her leg.

"Scared?" I ask, kissing up her neck.

"No." She sounds confident.

"What if I love you?" I say, moving my hips so that I'm at her center.

Only the head is in.

_Fuck. _

She sucks in a breath. "What if?" She holds on.

Damp pink hair fans against my bedspread. I never want her to not be here. This is belonging. This is supposed to be.

This is years in the motherfucking making.

I push in a little. Her head tilts back. Her eyes close. Alice's nipples rub against my chest.

_Yeah, I love this person. _

I can't breathe … this isn't happening.

_It is._

"More, Pete. More, more, more." She wraps her legs around the back of my knees. She holds onto my sides.

I watch her pink cheeks redden.

I move in some more.

"Fuck!" I call out.

_Fuck!_

"So good, baby," I say into her neck. "So fucking good."

More.

More.

All the way in.

Is it possible to actually feel someone stretch … bind to you?

Alice's entire body stiffens. She whimpers quietly. I stroke carefully. In and out, unhurriedly. I kiss her warmed skin and hold her unstable hand.

She starts to move her hips some. Just a little. She turns her head toward me and presses her mouth to my jaw line. Her bottom lip trembles. She breathes unsteady. She sighs.

Open—her eyes are wide fucking open and swallowing.

Our stomachs slide as I thrust a little harder. She's fitting around me better. My pelvic bone rubs her clit. My mouth kisses her throat. Her nails pierce into my hips.

Then it's smooth, and we flow like water. Alice's body relaxes … she might even be having fun. She licks her lips and tells me my dick feels so big.

I laugh.

"Yeah." She nods. "Yeah, you're so big, Pete. Your dick is so big."

I pound harder.

Skin slaps, spit swaps, limbs move and tangle and press.

Alice pushes me onto my back. She slides down my cock and moves her hips in the sweetest way, with her hands pressed onto my chest.

I watch her breasts, her face, and her center.

"Tell me what you see." she says. "Tell me how I look to you."

My chest rumbles.

Kim is nothing like this. She's the lay-down-and-take-it type of girl. Dirty talk makes her feel awkward and shy. Not Alice, though. She gets off on it. This girl likes to hear how sexy she is … how she feels, what she does to me.

And not the "you're beautiful" shit, either.

She knows she is.

"Your pussy is unreal," I say thickly. I touch her clit.

She strokes and laughs, and melts.

I palm her tits. I sit up and lick her nipple. I bite it. "I want to put my dick between these."

Her blues roll back. She fucks faster.

I grip her hips and move her deeper, harder … longer. "This is how a real girl fucks," I whisper into her ear.

"Oh, shit." Her head drops back. Pink hair tickles the top of my knees.

I flip her back onto the mattress and settle between her legs. I pull back until the head of my dick circles her pussy. I slam in. She screams.

"I'm going to make you come until you can't breathe," I growl, finding the perfect rhythm in my hips. Her breasts bounce up and down. I lick her chest and tell her how good she tastes. "Like saltwater, baby. You're making me so hard. Can you feel it? Can you feel me getting harder?"

The prettiest smile forms on her kissed-swollen lips.

Her mouth is beside my ear. Her hands slide up and down my sides. She says, "What if I'm in love with you?"

I bury my face in her neck and groan.

"Don't say it," I plead. "Please. Please."

I can't hear it now. I can't hear it like this.

Because what if?

What if shit is different tomorrow?

What if in the end, she chooses Jasper?

"Cover me," she whispers. "Be on me. Be in me. Be with me."

My hips slow down with the burning in the pit of my stomach. My arms hurt. My thighs ache. My heart fucking throbs.

"Don't stop," she begs loudly. "Don't ever fucking stop. You feel so fucking good, Pete. Pete…" She's desperate.

So I give her my lips.

Alice moans in my mouth. She steals my air. She takes my sanity.

"I love how hard your cock gets when I talk to you like this," she whispers. The desperation is gone. Her smile is back.

"You're fucking crazy." I laugh roughly.

We're covered in sweat and sex and confusion. I push her hands above her head and press them into the mattress. I pump slower, looking at where we connect. I'm slick with her love. She's soaking between her thighs.

I look good in her.

We work.

When this girl comes, she arches her back off of the bed, but I don't let go of her wrists. She squirms under me. She begs for me to touch her. Her nipples get too fucking hard. I bite my lip until I bleed. The balls of her feet push into the back of my calves.

There is nothing better than feeling Alice Cullen come around my cock.

When it's my turn, I pull out. I pump myself over her stomach a couple of times before she gains enough focus to scream, "Put it back in, Pete!"

"Please. It's okay … it's okay … please!" she pleads.

I let go of her wrists.

She reaches between us and puts me where I belong.

She kisses the side of my face while I empty inside of her. "I want this," she says. "I want to do this with you always."

I can't even see.

Her sex is a dream.

"We'll work it out. We will. I promise."

I believe her.

I do.

That's the thing.

_Fuck. _


End file.
